


Cured Everything Wrong With Him

by AnnaFugazzi



Series: Don't Ask, Don't Tell [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Military Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFugazzi/pseuds/AnnaFugazzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(STANDALONE) Bucky was the worst best friend in the world. Steve was fine, cured of everything that had ever been wrong with him. Bucky should have been rejoicing with him. Instead he wanted to throw up or cry.</p><p>This fits into the Don't Ask series right before Don't Ask, but there are no spoilers and you don't need to read any of the series. Set during and after Bucky's rescue in Captain America: The First Avenger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cured Everything Wrong With Him

**Author's Note:**

> What do you know, I actually ended up finishing this one. Unbeta'd, so please feel free to point out any errors or inconsistencies :)

**1.**

Dark, cold

So fucking tired

James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant, 32557038...

Sadist doctors with their pins and needles and burning rays were gone for now

Cold table, straps digging in

Explosions

So fucking tired

James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant...

How long had he been here

Steve, God he’d never see Stevie again

Who would take care of him

James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant, 32557...

Fuck it he was so tired and he hurt all over but the sadists weren’t here and maybe they were all dead

Really quiet

No, noisy again

His throat hurt and his arm hurt and he was probably gonna die and never see Steve again, never kiss him again

Didn’t even get to say goodbye, just a hug and “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

It was really loud

His head felt fuzzy and he could maybe think about Steve...

Hard to keep a hold of him when the pain got really bad but maybe he’d be done and gone soon--

Hard to keep a hold of anything in this place. Even his own name sometimes.

James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant, 2557...

“Bucky?”

OK, maybe he was already dying, that might be nice.

“Oh my God.”

That voice. That voice sounded so familiar.

“Whozzat?”

“It’s me.” A face swam into focus. “It’s Steve.”

He smiled. “Steve.”

Obviously it couldn’t be Steve. But whoever it was looked kinda like Steve and pulled him off the table and what the hell, it looked like Steve and Bucky was perfectly happy to go along with this particular hallucination. He’d hallucinated far worse in the last little while.

“I thought you were dead,” said the Steve hallucination - he sounded just like Steve too, could it actually be, Bucky was so fucking out of it, up was down and down was up and Steve was bigger than him--

“Thought you were smaller.”

Gunfire. That was gunfire he heard. He tried to focus. Steve. The huge guy holding him up looked just like his Steve.

Then they started to walk - or rather, Steve started to walk, Bucky just dragged behind him. He blinked, trying to keep his lunch down. Or... breakfast? Whatever they’d fed him... when? Days ago?

Everything hurt, and the light was gray and confusing and this _had_ to be Steve - he moved and sounded and smelled like Steve, and he was taking Bucky out of this place.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“I joined the Army.”

Christ, there were explosions everywhere. They... and Jesus Christ, he focused his eyes and drew in his breath.

Steve?

They stumbled along, Bucky gaining strength, and it was bizarre, he was in pain and exhausted but it had to be the adrenaline of the chase or maybe he was hallucinating or something, but he was feeling stronger, and--

“Don’t shit me. What happened?” he asked the Steve hallucination.

“I, uh, I signed up for this experimental thing. They shot me up full of some science-fiction serum, put me through these weird rays or something. It fixed everything that was wrong with me.”

“What?” He shuddered, his stomach heaving. Holy fuck, somebody had put Steve through rays? No, couldn’t be anything like the shit they’d put Bucky through, that had burned his skin from the inside out and made him scream his throat bloody. He hadn’t even seen Steve in this hellish place, helping test out the rays that were supposed to figure out better, more efficient ways to kill them all--

“Yeah, Howard Stark did the rays,” said Steve.

Wait. Stark was here? “Where... where was this?”

“Back home. Well, sort of. New Jersey.”

“Did it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.”

Oh shit, it sounded like everything around them was blowing up and then the explosions were a hell of a lot closer and Bucky was feeling physically stronger by the moment - Jesus, he must be scared as hell because he’d felt near-dead from the injections and the rays but was now jumping up the stairs, running after Steve, but holy hell was he disoriented - and everything was all a jumbled mess. The only steady thing was Steve, who was so much bigger that he had to be a hallucination, but there was also flame and smoke and--

And some German guy talking to Steve. Slinking near him was the little toad scientist who’d keep Bucky in a drugged stupor for however long he’d been there, poking and prodding him and making him sick as a dog, but the other guy was crossing a narrow bridge and going up to the huge hulking version of Stevie and saying something that apparently really pissed Steve off because Steve threw a punch and then the guy punched back and _shit_ he punched right through Steve’s shield and for once Bucky really didn’t think he could step in - and it was OK because the toad did something and the bridge started to pull apart, separating Steve from the German guy--

And then the guy pulled off his head.

Apparently Buck had officially snapped.

“You don’t have one of those, do you?” Bucky asked, not really listening as the guy said something about him and Steve having left humanity behind and then they were running for their lives as the explosions got closer...

Yeah, he’d hallucinated some vivid stuff on that table. _This_ table - obviously he must still be on the table. This all felt pretty real, though.

All of it felt real - the explosions, the flames, the pain, the fear, and then he had to go over a narrow beam and jump to safety and he did, and the hallucination of Steve was still on the other side and the beam was gone and--

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!” he yelled back at his weird Steve-dream.

“Just go!” yelled Steve, flames roaring between them, and Bucky’s heart flipped over. “Get outta here!”

If Bucky was still on the table imagining Steve, he’d imagine _rescuing_ him - but this, this noble shit, this was what the real Steve did, the stupid-ass punk--

Whatever the hell Steve was doing here, there was no way Bucky was gonna lose him. “No! Not without you!” Bucky yelled back.

Not again. Not ever again.

And Steve gave him the same look he always gave him when Bucky was being an idiot, and then bent the metal railing _holy fucking shit_ , backed up, looked like he was gathering all his strength... and leaped over the edge.

**2.**

It was Steve. It was really, honestly Steve.

Bucky was still shaky from whatever the hell they’d been doing to him. Still not sure what the hell was going on. Colors were weird, smells too sharp, and everything hurt. But Steve was real.

That was pretty much all his addled brain could deal with as they plodded back to safety. Technically he knew they were still in danger, despite their numbers and despite the freaking tank they had liberated, but his brain kept coming back to, _Steve._ Jesus, Steve, alive and well and built like a fucking tank himself.

Bucky concentrated on one foot in front of the other. That was all he could be expected to do, right?

There were so many people wanting to talk to Steve, too. All of them looking at him like he was some sort of hero. All of them looking at him like Bucky had always looked at him, everyone seeing the huge soul Bucky had always known existed in that scrawny body.

Keep walking. Keep walking. Bucky kept his mind away from the torture of that table, away from the shooting pains that came with the injections, away from the gut-churning fear and ravenous hunger, away from the disorientation of seeing a stranger whose body seemed to be housing his little Stevie, and kept walking.

**3.**

They’d made it back. Steve, the idiot, had of course offered to turn himself in for disciplinary action.

What a punk. Some things never changed.

Some things did change. Instead of being charged, Steve had been offered his own command, and given the option of hand-picking his men. He’d picked the men he’d just freed, and convinced them to follow him, and asked Buck if he’d join, and of course, how could he say no? Best friend asks you to follow him into the jaws of death: you say yes, even if you just escaped those jaws and can still feel the marks where they clamped around you.

Though Bucky was the worst best friend the world had ever known, he reflected as he tossed back a scotch. Here he was, his best friend was fine, cured of everything that had ever been wrong with him, a god damn hero like he’d always wanted to be, admired by everyone, even had a gorgeous dame who looked at him like he hung the moon, and any friend worth his salt would’ve just been rejoicing--

A big part of Bucky _was_ rejoicing, was the thing. It had always broken his heart to see Steve suffering. Icy dread when Steve got sick - would he make it this time, would they be able to afford his medicine, could Bucky stand to see him suffer. Anguished sympathy when Steve couldn’t walk up the stairs without getting winded, when he couldn’t ignore the pain no matter how hard he tried. Worry when he knew Steve resented his help, when Steve didn’t want to take his money for medicine, when Steve hated Bucky saving his ass when he was too dumb to walk away from a fight. Impotent anger when he watched how the world dismissed him, how guys mocked him and girls didn’t even look at him, how nobody could see what an amazing man Steve was.

Guilt when he saw how Steve struggled with their feelings for each other.

And now Steve was free of all of that. He’d never be at death’s door or wheeze through the night or be ignored or need to be rescued, ever again. He’d never have to feel shame and weakness in anyone’s bed again -- unless that gorgeous Carter dame got him into her bed before he made an honest woman of her.

Bucky should be overjoyed. If anyone deserved any of this, it was Steve.

He _was_ overjoyed. He was.

He also felt like he was on the verge of tears, and had felt that way longer than he’d previously believed possible - tight, aching throat and burning eyes becoming almost his default condition. His Steve, his lover, the boy he’d fallen in love with almost ten years ago, was gone now. Replaced by a better, stronger version of himself. One that didn’t need Bucky any more. Didn’t want him any more.

He ordered another drink, tossed it back too. Steve had gone back to his place - or possibly gone to wherever that classy Carter gal called home, who knew. The other members of their newly formed merry band had gone home too. Bucky had put them all off with a wink and a leer in the direction of the pub’s good-time girls and a, “Gotta take advantage of the, uh, company available in civilization before we go off again,” and stayed behind.

 _Company_. He didn’t want company. He briefly considered trying for one of these girls but the idea turned his stomach. Even the idea of touching one of them made his soul feel like shriveling up and dying.

It had been different before, when he went with girls to forget Steve. He’d occasionally felt guilty for using them, for pretty much only being able to get it up by imagining Steve, but now...

He’d held on to Steve so hard -- the memory of him, his steady blue eyes, his touch, his warm lips, while strapped onto that table. After all, he was being tortured and possibly about to die, he’d reasoned hazily, hoping that if the nuns were right and he was about to meet his maker, God could be forgiving.

It was one of those Catholic “which is the lesser evil” things. What was most sinful? Breaking under torture and offering to give any information the enemy wanted, possibly endangering hundreds of lives? Starting to beg for death to end the pain - or trying to goad them into killing him and committing suicide by Nazi?

Or letting his mind wander over memories of sinning with his best friend?

He’d gone for the memories. Let his last thoughts be kisses and caresses and moans in the dark, snatching joy and love from the shame and fear. He’d held on to Steve in his mind, riding out waves of pain coursing through his bones, repeating his own name, rank and serial number and thinking of Steve’s eyes, his voice, imagining his thin arms holding Bucky close to keep the pain at bay.

It hadn’t always worked too good. The drugs and the pain sent him into nightmares sometimes, where he relived the torment of Steve sending him away, over and over, while Bucky begged him not to. Steve’s stubborn determination and stupid self-sacrificing nature making him deaf to Bucky’s pleas.

And now he’d never hear them again. Not now that the Serum had cured everything wrong with him.

Bucky knocked back a final drink, paid, and stumbled out of the pub. He’d had a _lot_ to drink; enough that he should have been pissed out of his head. Instead he was just heavily tipsy.

His eyesight was keener, too. He could remember things more clearly. He felt physically better than he had before that damned base, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna tell anybody about it. Not when he also felt like warmed-over shit and guilty and wrung out and defeated.

How he’d ended up at Steve’s, he wasn’t sure, he realized a few minutes later as Steve opened his door. It was nice to see Steve’s spontaneous grin at seeing him, though. And how healthy he was now. Steve had always burned so damn bright; now he was like looking into the face of the sun.

Or maybe Bucky was drunker than he’d thought.

“Bucky!” said Steve. He suddenly frowned. “You... are you all right?”

“Yeah, fine,” said Bucky.

“Thought you’d be out later,” said Steve.

Bucky shrugged. “Didn’ find the company I wanted.”

Steve’s smile dimmed a little, and he swallowed, but didn’t break eye contact. “I told you, I can ask Peggy if she’s got a friend,” he said, his voice light and teasing like he’d sounded at the pub. Bucky dropped his eyes, suddenly needing to bite back a sob.

“Y’know, I’m real proud of you, pal,” he said, and damn it, he was slurring.

“Are you OK?” Steve asked, and he didn’t sound like he was smiling any more.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘mfine.”

“Buck. Sit down.” He put a hand on Bucky’s arm and gently led him to one of the chairs in his room.

Bucky sank down and glanced around at the tidy little room Steve had been assigned. Officer’s privilege, he supposed - Bucky himself was sharing with Dugan. Still better than barracks.

“I’m happy for you, y’know?” His head was clearing, a lot quicker than it should have. He kind of wanted to be blind drunk for this.

He shouldn’t say anything. They were just brothers now, just like Steve had always said they should be. There was nothing more to say. What could he say? _Congratulations, buddy. You’re a hero. You always were a hero to me; now the rest of the world can see it too. And you’re not a pervert any more, you’re gonna get the girl, just like I always said I hoped you would but now that it’s here I can’t take it._

“You’re... I’m proud of you,” he said instead. “You’re a punk and you had no business doing what you did, but good for you, for doing it. For going through with it. It was worth it.”

“I know,” said Steve. “It was.”

“You saved so many people.”

“I... yeah. Thanks.”

Bucky nodded, and got up to leave.

“Bucky,” Steve said, his voice low.

“What?”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m an idiot,” said Bucky. Steve gazed at him, concerned. “I... I’m happy for you, I am,” said Bucky, and his voice was hoarse. “I just...” he trailed off. No. No, he couldn’t be a selfish bastard and say anything against what had happened to Steve. What Steve had done.

“You’re so different,” he blurted instead. “Hard getting used to looking up at you.”

Steve gave him a crooked smile. “Great time to find out you were lying all those times you said you looked up to me when we were growing up.”

Bucky snorted. Some thing hadn’t changed. “You know, nobody likes a wise-ass,” he said, grinning at Steve. Steve grinned back. “So you’re this big hero now. Your own command and everything.”

“Yeah. Sounds so strange. I was a damn chorus girl a few days ago.” He paused. “It’s... hard to get used to,” he admitted. “Everybody’s crowding around me. Never thought I’d get tired of it.”

Bucky nodded. The whole time they’d been trudging back from that hell-hole, there had been guys all around Steve, wanting to talk to him, thank him.

“The one person I wanted to see kept disappearing,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky drew in his breath, his stomach flipping over. “I was fine. Just needed to get my head together.”

“Are you OK?”

“Yeah, fine. I told you.”

“You weren’t just saying that ’cause we were surrounded by the men, are you?” Steve paused. “Or were you avoiding me?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, just tired,” he said dismissively, firmly pushing down the urge to throw up that came up every time his thoughts came anywhere close to that Hydra torture table. “I’m fine now. Got checked out by medical and everything.”

“Were you avoiding me?” Steve asked, point-blank.

“Why would I do that?”

“I’ve missed you,” said Steve softly.

“OK, stop,” said Bucky, abruptly feeling the tightness in his throat again and the prickling behind his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Look, I... I know. I’m glad you’re better. I’m glad - you never wanted either of us to feel this, and I’m glad for you, that you don’t, but--”

“What?”

“It’s just -- shitty to be me right now.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Why?”

“Fuck, don’t _pretend_ , OK?” Bucky wanted to stop himself, but it was like his mouth was going ahead without his volition.

“Pretend what?”

Great, now Bucky couldn’t decide whether he felt more like crying or throwing up. “It happened and it’s over but don’t pretend we never -- I know how you felt. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“Bucky,” Steve said slowly, frowning at him. “What do you think I’m pretending about?”

For an instant Bucky was stunned. They hadn’t... had they done something to Steve’s memory? Jesus, he’d mentioned being in some sort of machine that hurt a lot and Bucky had sort of blanked on that part because it reminded him of a machine those Nazis had put him in that left him totally disoriented with pain and missing chunks of time but had they... they were looking to make a Super Soldier and a perfect man. Had they done something to Steve’s brain? To his memories?

“Do you... do you think I don’t feel the same way any more?” Steve asked quietly.

Bucky stared at him.

Steve took a deep, shaking breath. “Buck. I still love you,” he said, lowering his voice. “That’s never changed.”

Bucky briefly closed his eyes in pain. “I know. You said that last time you tossed me out on my ass. I don’t need to hear it again, Steve.” Damn it, there was nothing Bucky hated more than when Steve pulled the ‘love is love, whether we do anything physical or not’ bullshit. Hearing it now, when Steve didn’t even feel the pull to do anything physical... “Don’t patronize me, OK?”

“I’m not. Why--”

“I know you’re all cured now, you’re not--” he caught himself just in time, lowering his voice. “You’re not a pervert, but don’t--”

“Jesus, Bucky,” Steve blurted, and Bucky blinked at him. “Do you honestly think I - Jesus.” He looked stunned. “Did you think I don’t... I don’t feel like I used to? Because of the Serum?”

“It cured everything wrong with you, didn’t it? It--”

“Not _that_ ,” said Steve forcefully, and Bucky’s words ground to a halt. Steve shook his head. “Buck. I still feel the same. Not everything was cured.”

“You... but you haven’t - the last few days you never--”

“What, when we were with everyone else on the road?” Steve said incredulously. “You expected me to say something then?”

“You could’ve--”

“How was I supposed to know you felt the same, Buck?” asked Steve.

“What?”

Steve looked away. “You always liked girls too. How was I supposed to know you didn’t find one?”

“I didn’t. I never have. You know that.”

“We haven’t seen each other in months. And I’m different now.”

Buck swallowed. “Did you think that would make a difference to me?”

“I always looked like a girl, before,” Steve said softly.

“You’ve _never_ been a - you’ve never been that to me,” Bucky said fiercely, as fiercely as he’d ever said it to Steve when he was tiny and delicate. “I thought you knew that. I thought you understood that. Haven’t you ever listened to a damn thing I’ve said?”

“I always thought you went gay for me ’cause I was close enough to a girl--”

Bucky started to laugh, because if he didn’t he was gonna cry. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever known. You stupid punk.” He took a deep breath. “How many times have I told you? You’re a guy. You’ve always been a guy to me. What you look like doesn’t matter. I didn’t want you ’cause you looked like a girl. I didn’t want a girl. I wanted you.”

Steve hesitated. “And now? I’m not the same.”

“You don’t stop loving someone just ’cause they’ve changed, Steve,” said Bucky. “It doesn’t work that way.”

Steve nodded slowly, and his eyes looked like they always had in the past when he’d been on the verge of giving in, when his love and desire for Bucky had burned under his skin and nothing he did could turn it into anything brotherly or acceptable.

Bucky slowly reached for him. “Can I?”

Steve breathed out, his pupils dilating, and took his hand. They drew together slowly, and Buck’s heart was racing fit to beat out of his chest. So long, so fucking long he’d dreamed about this - back Stateside, after Steve had sent him away. During Basic, when he’d hated everything. That last night before shipping out, with what the hell had her name been. The whole time he’d been serving in combat, and after he’d been captured when the only thing that had kept him from going insane was the memory of holding Steve’s skinny frame close, hearing his voice, tasting his lips...

Their lips met.

God. God Almighty, thank you, Bucky prayed, and hoped he wasn’t being too irreverent, because right now it felt like every prayer he’d had was being answered at once. 

God, Steve’s lips, his scent was the same, and Bucky tasted his tongue and made himself quiet the moan that rose in his throat.

“I’ve missed you,” Steve whispered, catching his lips again. “Christ, I missed you so much.”

He cupped Steve’s cheek - Jesus, he was so tall now, his little Stevie was gone and in the past few days Bucky had slowly gotten used to looking up at him but this, this was so different. He was _everywhere_ , his body huge and strong and capable but it still shivered under Bucky’s touch same as it had before. Their tongues stroked each other and their lips caressed and it was such a disorienting mixture of what Bucky had known since childhood and something completely new.

“Is this OK?” Steve whispered, pulling back slightly, his lips reddened, eyes dark and nervous.

“It’s fine,” Bucky whispered back. “I want - fuck.” He took a breath, trembling. “I want to - please, can we...” he looked at the bed.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” said Steve, his whispered words shaky. “I didn’t know if you’d ever... _God_ yes.” He took Bucky’s hand and pulled him to the bed, sinking down and frowning when they heard the creaking of the bedsprings.

“Fuck,” whispered Bucky. “I...” he tried to think if anybody had seen him come to Steve’s room.

“It’s all right,” said Steve, and drew the covers off the bed and to the floor, pulling Bucky down. They came together, clumsy in their need for each other, Christ, what would they do if anyone came to see Steve late at night, they’d have to figure something out, he glanced at the door--

“Nobody’s gonna come tonight,” Steve whispered, fingers trembling as they undid Bucky’s shirt buttons. “We just got back. It’s late. Everyone’s exhausted and asleep or drunk.” They kissed again. “Just have to be quiet, is all.”

Bucky nodded and helped Steve with his own uniform, Christ he looked amazing, and after frantic scrabbling with buckles and buttons they were finally bare and pressed against each other, Bucky’s whimpers muffled against Steve’s chest, Steve biting down on his knuckle.

“Please,” Bucky gasped. “Please.” He lay back on the hard floor, parting his thighs and pulling Steve on top of him, biting his lip with the effort to stay quiet.

“We got no supplies...” Steve whispered, thrusting against him, shaking with need and Jesus, yes, that was Steve all over, eager and sensitive and the body might be different but the spirit was the same and Bucky was home, home, and his heart was pounding like it was gonna burst from his chest.

“Please, Stevie, I don’t need - I need you, just, Christ--” and then Steve was prepping him, nothing but spit and love and their eagerness for one another to ease the way, and it hurt a lot more than he remembered from their last time together but he’d never minded that, not from their first clumsy, magical time coming together like this.

“Are you - I’m not hurting you?” Steve whispered, and Bucky shook his head quickly, though the wetness in his eyes wasn’t only due to emotion. He pulled Steve close and they rested together, Steve waiting to allow Bucky’s body relax and adjust to him, and Bucky could feel Steve’s heart pounding and his breath coming in quick pants against Bucky’s forehead. Their mouths came together and Bucky swallowed back a moan.

“Move,” he murmured.

“Careful,” said Steve. “The floorboards creak too.” And they began moving together, God how many times had they done this since they were kids? But this felt so different - they weren’t in their own home, and while they’d always had to be careful of thin walls and nosy neighbors, not since their first furtive explorations at the orphanage had Bucky so keenly felt the fear of discovery, the terror of holy God what if anyone found out...

Bucky breathed carefully, arms tightening around Steve, hands ghosting over him, getting to know this new body and closing his eyes. He quickly opened them again, disoriented at Steve’s unfamiliar weight and needing to see him, ground himself, make sure it was really him. After all the times he’d imagined Steve, ached to have him back in his arms, inside his body, they were finally together again and it was so sweet despite the strangeness - his heart felt like it was bursting and he wanted to moan and babble nonsense but they had to be silent because nobody could know, nobody could find out, nobody nobody nobody, it would be the end of them if anybody ever suspected--

They’d just have to never be found out, then.

They were rocking so slowly, so quietly together. So careful, almost silent, joy coursing through him, shivers crossing Steve’s back as Bucky’s fingers dug in to the muscles at play there - no bony spine for Bucky to feel every vertebra, no hipbones digging into his thighs, but the scent and warmth and the adoring blue gaze were the same. He bit back a whimper.

“Shh,” Steve whispered into his mouth, moving his body within Bucky and Bucky was lighting up, his body tensing, climax gathering in a surging wave within him, and he clenched his eyes closed. Silently, silently, move slowly, holding Steve close, not allowing himself to pant too loudly, growing light-headed from lack of oxygen...

He felt the lock of his muscles and the burst of climax rushing over him, swallowed back his cries and felt Steve shudder against him - God, pulsing inside him, arms tightening around him but noiselessly, Jesus, the intensity, he wanted to shout and laugh and cry and couldn’t do any of it.

“I love you, I love you, Jesus, Steve, I love you,” he whispered into Steve’s ear, once he’d gotten his breath back, eyes blurred with tears. Christ he was always such a sap after sex, every emotion standing out in stark relief and love threatening to overwhelm him, and it was probably a good thing they couldn’t say very much, had to be quiet, because he’d be babbling nonsense for hours otherwise.

Steve captured his lips and kissed him breathless.

“I love you,” he whispered back. He braced himself on one elbow and gazed down at Bucky, blue eyes shining. “I love you so fucking much. Christ, I had no idea.”

Bucky blinked.

“Buck.” Steve touched his cheek tenderly, and he was still inside Bucky, still holding him like he was never gonna let go. “I love you. Can’t imagine ever feeling like this about anybody else.” His forehead creased and he closed his eyes and lowered his head, nuzzling Bucky’s neck again.

“Steve?” Bucky said uncertainly. Not that he’d ever doubted Steve loved him, but--

“Buck, I thought you were dead.” Steve took a deep, shaking breath. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Bucky nodded, holding him close. Steve buried his face in his neck and murmured, “And I couldn’t think of anything else. You, dead, and the last time we’d been together we didn’t even say goodbye, and now you were dead - I, I felt like I couldn’t breathe--”

“I’m all right,” said Bucky shakily. “I’m - everything’s fine.”

“It’s not,” said Steve quietly. “You don’t have to pretend. You’re not fine.”

“Not pretending,” said Bucky stubbornly. Damn it, Steve had done this to him for years. It felt like their places were switched.

“I kept thinking I’d lost you. I’d lost you and we’d wasted the last time we could’ve had together.” And he was bigger and his voice was deeper but his voice shook like when they were kids.

“Now you know how I felt every time you got sick,” said Bucky.

Steve nodded. “I know. I never really understood before.” He gazed down at Bucky. “Kept thinking if I ever got you back I’d never let you go again,” he confessed guiltily. “And part of me kept thinking I should be praying and promising God that if He’d help me find you I’d never touch you the wrong way again, but...”

Bucky smiled. “You’re the one who always told me God don’t work like that,” he teased.

Steve smiled back and kissed him again. “I know. But...” he looked back at Bucky, his eyes dark. “It was like I couldn’t breathe, like I had asthma again,” his voice was hushed, but steady. “Like if you were gone, this black pit was gonna open up and swallow me because you’re - I love you,” he buried his face in Bucky’s hair, shivering. “You’re everything, Bucky. I couldn’t lose you, that’s all I kept thinking from the moment I heard about your unit. And I’m... fuck, I’m so sorry you had to go through that with me, so many times. You’d told me, before, but I never understood. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Bucky blinked. Like he couldn’t breathe; like his whole world was gonna go to pieces if the man he loved was gone; like a black pit was gonna swallow him whole. Bucky had felt that, again and again, felt God taking Steve away from him so many times since they’d been kids, clung to Steve so hard, so many times.

And for the first time he realized that while he’d been on that table, clinging to his memories of Steve, Steve had been suffering too, moving heaven and earth to come to him for real.

Steve moved off of him, carefully, and covered them both with one of the sheets from the bed. Bucky shifted slightly and hid a wince; hadn’t had sex that way in a while, and he was gonna be feeling it tomorrow. He pressed himself against Steve as Steve held him close, and damn, that was disorienting, being so much smaller. Being cradled in Steve’s arms, nestled in a sleek expanse of muscle instead of holding his skinny friend close and occasionally wincing at the sharpness of his bones.

“Did anybody see you come here?” Steve asked quietly.

“Don’t think so,” said Bucky.

“You can’t stay too long,” said Steve, but he was still holding on to Bucky as if for dear life.

“You want me to go already?” Bucky asked, trying to keep his voice light and teasing and failing completely, if the way Steve’s grip on him tightened was any indication.

“No.” Steve’s voice was flat. “I don’t ever want you to go. But we can’t - we can’t get caught. We’ll have to be careful.”

“We’ve always been careful,” said Bucky.

“No, I mean really careful. We can’t - if I was any kind of decent friend I’d stay the hell away from you, Bucky.” Steve’s voice roughened and he tipped Bucky’s chin up and took his lips in a long kiss.

“I don’t want you to,” said Bucky when they broke for air. “I never have. You know that.”

“Yeah, well we’ve never had so much to lose,” said Steve. “This ain’t like when we were kids.”

“You know the Army’s a bit like the orphanage, though, right?” Bucky asked. “It’s not like guys fooling around never happens.”

“If we were just two regular guys, sure,” said Steve. “But with us - with me...” He held Bucky’s gaze, dead serious. “I’m a public figure, Buck. I’ve been in the papers. Not so much me, but the uniform, the Captain America thing. They’d probably wanna make an example of us.”

Bucky swallowed. Steve was right. They’d be ruined. Tossed out of the Army, court-martial, possibly even thrown in the stockade. Or sent back home in permanent disgrace. And with Steve’s new fame - Steve might be virtually indestructible, but Bucky would not want to bet on the Serum against an outraged knife to the ribs or the boots of a bloodthirsty mob thinking he’d disgraced the uniform or the symbol of America in wartime.

“Steve,” Bucky began. “I can - whatever you want, we’ll make it work. Just don’t - don’t go pushing me at girls again, telling me I should find someone else--”

Steve shook his head. “I’m not. I should. But...” He lay back down, tugged Bucky over so that Bucky’s head was resting on his chest. He ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and Bucky shivered. “We’ll be working together, going out in the field. We’ll try to bunk together when we can. But we can’t - we have to be careful.”

“No fooling around if there’s any chance anyone can hear us or come in,” Bucky agreed.

“No being together in private more than once a week.”

Bucky started to object, and bit it back. Once a week was plenty. They could live with that.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” said Steve, his voice low. He tightened his arms around Bucky. “I’m sorry. I just - I thought... I thought you were dead.” He cleared his throat.

Bucky shook his head fiercely. “I want this just as much as you do,” he said. “You know that.”

Steve glanced at the door. “We should plan what to do if anybody knocks.” He nodded toward their clothing, lying in a heap on the floor. “We’ll fold our clothes neatly so we can put them on real quick. Should put on shorts right after, too.”

“It’ll still take us too long to come to the door for a couple fellas who’re just talking,” Bucky pointed out. He swallowed. “We’ll make up a bed on the floor and muss it up, and muss up the real bed too. Then if anyone knocks on the door you can answer and pretend I came over to sleep on your floor so I could go without nightmares.”

Steve blinked and looked at him. “You’re OK with that?”

“OK with pretending I’m fighting off shell-shock so we don’t get drummed outta the service for being perverts? Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “You walk ’em outta the room real quick and act like I’m embarrassed about getting nightmares and you don’t wanna talk about it too much. They’ll be feeling sorry for me for being messed up.” He gave Steve a small smile. “Maybe mention something about how I was always scared of lightning as a kid and I’m kinda embarrassed that I gotta come to you again like I’m a little kid. They’ll either feel pity for me or feel embarrassed on my behalf, but at least they won’t be thinking about what else we coulda been doing.”

Steve nodded and was silent for a few moment, fingers threading through his hair. “You should go to a chaplain about the nightmares,” he finally said quietly.

“Yeah, it’ll make it more believable,” Bucky said, nodding.

Steve nodded. “Buck... I know it was bad out there,” he said cautiously. “It’s not just for cover, you know--”

Bucky stiffened and Steve’s words stuttered to a stop. No. No, he could not talk about the terror he’d felt, the agony, the fact that on their way back Steve had woken him up twice the second night, woken him from confused images and memories of screaming, begging his torturers for mercy, then being gagged and screaming some more into the gag--

“You still want me to see girls for cover too?” he asked to push that thought away. “’Cause pretty much the only girls you can go to when you’re deployed are working girls, you know that, right?”

Steve stiffened next to him. “I suppose so.”

Bucky swallowed. Steve had always hated it when Bucky used girls. He’d gone with a few good-time girls back home, slept with ’em even, to give the old ladies in their neighborhood something to wag their tongues about and to stop Steve from feeling guilty over them being together. Sometimes it was even fun, in a very different way from what he did with Steve.

But Steve hated it. _She’s a human being, Bucky, not a cover_ , he’d say. _You have to give it a shot, go out with them for real, not just for a night._ And _If you had a steady girl and then maybe we could stop being like this..._

And he’d always looked disappointed - though Bucky swore he glimpsed relief mixed in there too - when Buck came back to him. Always acted like he’d be happy for him if Bucky ever picked up a girl for serious.

And damn it, the face was subtly different but Steve’s expression was still the same.

Bucky forced out a laugh. “At least I won’t be leading them on any,” he said lightly. “You always got on my case for that. Not like I’m leading any of ’em on when it’s whores I’m going to.”

“Buck.” He paused. “You wouldn’t have to do anything with ’em,” he said. “You could pretend you’re too drunk.” Steve cleared his throat. “I know you did that a few times back home.”

“They’ll probably even be relieved when I pretend I can’t get it up and take off early,” said Bucky. “I’ll pay ’em, just won’t do anything with ’em.”

Oh fuck - and now Bucky would have to do the same thing Steve had always done, and push him at girls. He’d done it back home, of course, but always knew in a guilty part of himself that it was a futile effort. No girl looked at Steve twice. He’d known that some day one might - that a nice girl, probably a homely one, would look at Steve and see what a treasure he was, and Steve would be able to see her true beauty too. But he’d never had to face it dead-on.

Now, though. Now every girl in the world, including lookers like Agent Carter, was gonna swoon over Steve. Steve was bound to look back eventually. And it would shred Bucky’s insides but he was gonna have to smile and be happy for Steve.

Because the alternative was this. Steve - honest, upright Steve - not just doing his normal “you should go out with girls, Bucky” and “you should talk to a priest, Bucky,” but agreeing to actual deception. Using working girls and army chaplains to help cover their dirty secret.

God damn. He held Steve closer.

“Just... be careful,” said Steve. “If you... you know. With the girls. If you, uh...”

He rolled his eyes. “I know about rubbers, Steve. And even if I did, I wouldn’t come back to you just to get you sick.”

“I don’t think I can get sick any more,” said Steve.

Bucky cleared his throat. “You’ll have to think about having a sweetheart yourself. You can’t go to whorehouses.” He paused. “What about Agent Carter?”

“What about her?”

“You like her?”

Steve blushed.

“You like her, don’t you?” said Bucky, and tried to keep his tone light even though his chest was aching with jealousy. For all Steve had always encouraged him with girls, Bucky suddenly wondered if he’d felt as sick with fear as Bucky did now. “It’s OK if you do, you know.”

“I... I like her,” Steve said, his voice shy. “But... Buck, she’s not you.”

Bucky drew in his breath. Damn it. So this was what it felt like to be on the other side. To know that the man you loved had the possibility of not having to live a lie, had the possibility of finding happiness with a girl... and see him turning away from it.

They lay on the floor a few more moments, holding each other close, and finally Bucky spoke again. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you weren’t... you know, better.”

“When I thought about you. I missed you. The exact same way I did before. Thought about you all the time. Surrounded by all these beautiful USO girls, but I just...” He broke off, leaned down and took Bucky’s lips in his, and Bucky parted his lips, kissing him back, stifling a moan.

They pressed together. God, Steve had thought about him. Bucky wondered if he’d jerked off to thoughts of him, like Bucky had. If he’d thought of Bucky’s lips on his, if he’d thought of Bucky under him. If he’d brought himself off to thoughts of Bucky on his knees before him, coming down his throat...

He felt himself stirring again, and pressed against Steve, realizing he wasn’t nearly as disoriented as he had been by Steve’s size.

“What did you think about?” he whispered as they broke for breath.

“Same as I’d thought before, touching you, kissing you--” he kissed Bucky again, and Bucky felt him beginning to harden too. He suddenly pulled back, gazing into Bucky’s eyes. “I’d thought - before I went into the machine, I’d thought about it. What would happen if I was... cured.”

“You still went through with it.”

“Buck.” Steve rubbed his cheek against Bucky’s hair, inhaling deeply. “I... yeah, I did. I thought - part of me felt like I didn’t wanna lose how I felt about you but I also thought, you know, we’ve always been like brothers and maybe it would be good to - but most of me didn’t want that to change.” He cleared his throat. “It - it’s funny, before I learned about Erskine’s machine if you’d asked me if I wanted to stop feeling the way I did about you I woulda said yeah, of course. And then when it was a reality... it wasn’t so easy any more.”

Bucky nodded, and once again wondered if he’d ever have the courage to ask Steve whether he ever thought of other guys the same way. Ask Steve whether he’d ever looked at another man, jerked off to thoughts of another man, and realized that it wasn’t just each other they had to stay away from.

Nah. He’d always been too much of a coward. Because none of the other guys Bucky had ever noticed had made him feel like Steve did, and he didn’t want to know if the same was true for Steve. Steve was too honest; he might tell Bucky he’d looked and wanted with the same kind of hunger he felt for Bucky. Or that only Bucky made him feel like sinning the way they did together. And Bucky didn’t want to hear either answer.

He pressed against Steve, both of them hard now, and thrust slowly against him.

Steve chuckled and ran a hand down his side. “You want?” He paused. “Maybe you on top?”

Bucky blinked, startled, and realized that it hadn’t occurred to him. And now that it did, it almost seemed a little ridiculous. Steve was so much bigger, so incredibly _male_ , it seemed silly for him to take it, to lie down for Bucky like a dame--

And yet for the first few years after they’d started this Bucky had been the one who lay down for Steve, spread his legs like a girl and took Steve inside him, even though Steve weighed next to nothing and anybody who knew they were queer for each other would’ve sworn they’d only do it the other way around...

Bucky shook his head, too tired to deal with any other confusing personal explorations right now. “Nah, too much for you to confess to tomorrow,” he said. “You know some priests give you more shit for lying down and taking it than just being a red-blooded guy who’ll stick it in anybody.”

“Father Shannon never did,” said Steve. “And I don’t care.” He cleared his throat. “Not going to Confession tomorrow anyway.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Why not? It’s Saturday.”

“I won’t lie, Buck,” he said seriously. “I can’t promise to try not to sin again. Can’t even say I wanna stop but don’t have the strength. I don’t wanna stop.”

“You’re gonna go without Confession during war time? Without Communion?” Bucky asked skeptically. “You get forgiven for all kindsa things, you know,” he added, having gone all of three times since he’d been here.

“I know. I went during boot camp. Can’t any more.”

Bucky held Steve closer, his brief arousal completely doused - temporarily, at least. Damn it. Damn it. His throat tightened and he closed his eyes.

He was going to lose him, was the hell of it. He was going to lose Steve, like he’d lost him so many times before, but this time, this time he was going to have a hand in losing him.

Because he’d always encouraged Steve to try with girls, but it had always been half-hearted, and useless anyway. He’d done it because that’s what a best friend was supposed to do. And because it helped him live with himself when he was sinning with Steve, being able to tell himself that Steve’s guilt, Steve’s dropping away from the church, wasn’t really Bucky’s fault because he did try to get Steve on the straight and narrow, sometimes.

But now he was going to do it now knowing that it was gonna work. That beautiful Agent had looked at him like a cat at a bowl of cream, and Bucky was gonna have to push Steve at her, because Steve actually cared what God thought, and Steve didn’t deserve to live with this guilt and fear and danger when he didn’t have to.

Torn in half by this, like always. Since they’d been kids part of Bucky had always thought that God hated him, because He gave Bucky exactly what he wanted and needed more than breathing -- but then gave it to him in the wrong body, a body that was not only male and therefore off-limits to him by the laws of God and man, but a body that was probably going to die young and take Bucky’s heart with it.

And now that body was stronger and healthier than anybody could have ever imagined... and he was still going to leave Bucky, and take Bucky’s heart with him when he left.

He held Steve closer, burying his head in Steve’s chest, inhaling deeply, closing his eyes against the slowly-more-familiar strangeness of Steve’s body and reveling in his familiar scent.

He was going to lose Steve. He knew it.

Just not yet. God, please, not yet. If he could have just a little while with him, a few months, years, however long they were serving together, he could give him up when the time came.

Just not yet.


End file.
